


The Space Between Us

by Silveriss



Series: It's Keith - Trails of Memories [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adulthood, Angst, College, First Kiss, Fluff, It's Keith Universe, M/M, One-Shot, POV Second Person, Romance, Short, Timeline: Luis is 19, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 15:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silveriss/pseuds/Silveriss
Summary: Somewhere, nowhere, they are standing so close their breaths mingle in the space between. There is a moment of just-before, and a moment of just-after.It's a precious memory, Luis knows. But it invites sadness all the same.





	The Space Between Us

You are standing close to him. So close to him your breaths mingle in the space between. It's... Strange, this space between you. It surrounds you with an impression of cold, sparks and a gap.

You wonder: what am I supposed to do? You don't know what goes where, are you supposed to put your hand on his shoulder? On his neck? Or would it be better to lace your arm around his waist? You _are_ taller than him, after all.

You wonder: does your height mean anything in this situation? Does it imply that you will have to take the lead?

You are both standing in a space of in-between, an awkward moment of just-before. You are staring, both of you. Your eyes walk the shades and volumes of a well-known landscape. The almonds of his warm, brown eyes, the angles of his jaw, the crooked curve of his once-broken nose, the gold of his soft skin, glowing under the halo of the near street lamp - as a ghost, a faerie, otherworldly -, the silver in his right ear catches the light and shines as glitter would.

You don't want to ever have to look away.

He has a freckle on his right temple, just here, a breath away, a mile away; your heart is pounding in your ears. Pounding in your throat. Pounding on your lips.

His lips are thin curves, hills and valleys, a shade away from the peaks of his cheekbones.

You almost hold back, but your heartbeat is too loud for your mind to be heard and thus, you lean forward. You close your eyes, and the freckle of his temple meets your lips. It's a swift movement, barely a touch, the caress of a butterfly on human skin.

Matsuo's eyes flutter as you pull back, his little smile mirroring yours; another second of in-between. His arms, strong and shy, circle your waist. You lace your hands around his neck.

A chin tilting upward, lids shutting close, space fading - your lips kiss. His are dryer than you thought. Chapped, maybe. As feelings invade, words and worlds slip away.

 

Whispers in the cold evening wind, your name:

"Luis?"

"Matsuo?"

You are embraced in one another, foreheads resting against each other.

"Why don't you open your eyes?" There is a smile in his voice.

You hum. "Savoring my first kiss."

Gentle chapped lips peck yours.

"You're cute."

A grin stretches your mouth. "Less than you."

Matsuo scoffs, and you can hear the song of love in this simple sound. "So you say", he murmurs, breath now tickling your ear.

You hum once more, bury your face in his scarf. His smell cradles you, and you exhale a content sigh through the folds of the fabric.

 

You are playing with his hand, stalling, still dazed from the tenderness of the moment just now shared. When you look up to meet his eyes, words are stopped in your throat by the utter adoration painting his face.

You wonder: is it me who painted him, or did he paint himself? Who is the canvas, and who is the painter?

His smile tells you: both.

"I have to go," Matsuo states. You smile.

"Yeah."

"This was nice," he ponders.

"Yeah."

You resume playing with his hand.

"We should do it again some time."

You scoff.

"Yeah. We should."

"Definitely."

"Soon."

"Very soon."

You look up again, hesitant, but the dimples at the corner of his eyes are enough to convince you. You kiss his adorable lips, quick and swift, making him laugh. He retaliates, slower, making it last, making you sigh when he pulls back.

Your eyes flutter open and your toothy grin mirrors his own. Star-struck sillies standing under a starless city sky.

 

* * *

 

The memory leaves a taste of nostalgia and fondness in your mouth. You stare at your ceiling as you swallow it down your throat to the back of your mind, to the drawers of distant memories, to the box of faded years.

When you turn around, you almost expect his scarf to be hanging on the back of your desk chair, but the realization hits fast and you remember that this, too, is lost.

You allow yourself one sigh, one empty sigh (one breath of sadness to sweep away the remnants of an end already grieved) before you get up and start your day.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


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